


If I Am Not Drowning

by RedLlamas



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, First Meetings, M/M, Shipwrecks, Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 23:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30029184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLlamas/pseuds/RedLlamas
Summary: The ship that Shane had been working on has been struck by lightning, catapulting Shane from it and into the ocean. He floats until help arrives.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Shyan Shipping Society Daily Prompts





	If I Am Not Drowning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [popkin16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/popkin16/gifts).



> Thank you [Kimmy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onedamnangryfrog) for betaing!
> 
> Title from rbhvleo 's poem on [tumblr](https://rbhvleo.tumblr.com/post/184217242793) ⤵️

The storm hits their boat, and it rocks all of the seasoned sailors off their feet. Shane had been clinging onto a rope, intending to lower the canvases, but is now more preoccupied with staying alive. He notices that the captain is yelling at him, but can't make out his words. He looks up into the storm, raindrops falling into his eyes, and finally thinks to himself,  _ This is where I'm going to die. _

The ship rocks back and forth on the frothing waves. The sea has now become a hell he hadn't foreseen. He looks down into the dark shadows on the surface and wonders if God will grant him enough strength to keep holding on.

The rope whips in the forceful winds. His knuckles turn white with the determination to keep hanging on.

"Shane! Get down from there!" someone on deck screams. Shane opens his eyes to look onto the ship, sees his crewmates huddling down in the safest crevices they could find. Captain Marchbank, brave soldier that he is, is standing on the deck, pulling ropes, heaving barrels. He looks up at Shane, and yells again.

"Get down here!"

"I don't think I can!" Shane responds.

Marchbank looks around himself and goes to reach for the edge of the ratlines. His hold tightens as a wave smacks against the side of the ship, but he reaches for the next rung and starts his slow ascent to Shane.

The thunderbolts around them crash and roar. Shane would worry that he'd go deaf, were there not more pressing matters at hand.

His heart seizes up with hope as his captain finally gets as level with him as possible. Marchbank is slightly below him, and he hooks a leg through the lines before reaching for Shane's rope, leaning out to get it in the wind.

Shane, for his part, does his best to swing towards Marchbank. He swings out a foot to him, and Marchbank manages to hold onto his pants leg. They share a smile before a lightning bolt strikes the main mast. The wood whines as it splinters down the middle, its cracks acting as choir to the thunder.

The mast bursts open, sending Shane and Marchbank toppling down along with the canvases. The cries of the other sailors are drowned out by the roar of the mast.

Shane feels himself float through the air. He suddenly sees everything in slow motion: his captain and the ratlines falling straight down to the deck, which is breaking in twain; some of his crewmates are forced backwards from their spots as the sea forces their half of the deck upwards; and the rope Shane is holding on to follows him as he falls to meet the cold, dark, choppy waters.

It shocks his system when he finally plunges beneath the waves. The salt water stings his skin, and his eyes, and he's still stupidly holding onto the rope as he tries to swim to the surface. The currents of the water are working against him. He sees flashes of light above the surface, and sees as debris is ejected into the water all around him.

When he finally broaches the surface, he realizes the rope he'd been holding on to is still connected to the gallant mast. He swims towards it, pulling it as he does. Shane heaves himself over it, and bobs with it as he watches the ship become engulfed in flames, the rain doing nothing to stop it.

He looks around himself, sees a few of his mates trying to save themselves, either by holding onto debris or getting into the lifeboats.

The ocean swells around them, the water pushing them all further away from each other. Panic finally settles into Shane's heart, and he does his best to swim towards the nearest lifeboat, where he saw Brent aboard, pulling the mast with him.

A wave crashes over him, slowing him down, and the lifeboat gets just that bit further away. He lets go of the mast, only the rope tied around his wrist, and makes a swim for it, but another wave brings him underwater. He tries to get upright, but the rope goes taut, helping save him from getting sucked into the depths.

He climbs the rope once more, up to the mast. He holds on tight, and cries as he realizes that he is now alone in the sea.

He is left adrift for a few days.

He is starving, but he has been blessed with lighter rain falling over him as he drifts. He opens his mouth to drink as much as he can. The rain feels fat and heavy against his skin, but it's not anything like what the  _ Dodola _ went through.

He wraps the rope around his arm twice. It falls down to his wrist. He does his best to lay across the mast. His shoulder blades bite into the wood, and his hips hurt.

The water keeps entering his ears.

His lips are dry. Whatever skin of his not covered by clothes or water feels much too hot.

He tries sleeping, but can only manage short, restless, wary naps every few hours or so, always jerking himself awake for fear of sinking.

His eyes hurt. He has the sky to look at, but it can get so bright sometimes, or out across the blue horizon of the Atlantic. The waves dance rhythmically, at all hours of the day.

There's nothing here. Just him.

And.

A fin. Jutting out of the waters.

Shane struggles to snap up from the mast, ends up splashing into the water. The coldness jerks him into wakefulness, and he pushes up onto the mast, straddling it to have a better vantage point.

There is a fin getting closer to him.

He pulls the rope tighter across his arms, over his body. He's not going to leave his one point of land. He's not going to die because a shark wants to fucking eat him.

His heart beats rabbitlike in his ribcage. He breathes through his nose.

What is he going to do? He has no weapons. He can't defend himself man to shark, either, he feels weak.

The fin drops below the surface. Shane holds his breath.

A face bobs out of the water just five feet from him.

It's a human face. With brown skin. And dark hair. And darker eyes that're looking right up at him.

It opens its mouth, and Shane can see rows of sharp teeth in its jaw.

"Sailor?" it asks. It…it asks? Shane blinks rapidly, wondering if the sea has finally claimed his sanity.

"Sailor," the being says again.

"Uh, yes," Shane answers. The...person nods, then a brown hand comes up from the waters, and points at its owner's mouth.

"Have to eat?" they ask.

Shane's stomach pains him. "No," he says.

They nod, and their other hand comes up from the water, small fish in its grasp, that don't jerk. This person must've killed them already.

They hold out their hand, and shake it, making the fish bounce a bit.

"Eat," they say.

Shane looks from the fish to their face. They don't...look threatening, now that Shane has calmed down. Their brown eyes look soft, and worried.

Shane leans forward to grab the fish, but he misjudges the distance between them, and ends up falling into the water. The coldness engulfs him once more, and he struggles to get upright again, when he sees the rest of this person right in front of him. Their bottom half is a shark. And then their upper half is under the water.

Shane tries to swim upwards again, but he gets tangled up in his rope, and the sharkman nears him, gently pulling the rope away from Shane before holding onto his aftarm and pulling him up.

Shane sputters a bit when he breaks the surface, and quickly goes back to his mast. He hooks an arm around it and turns to look at the sharkman, who has hooked his own arm around the mast.

"Thank you," Shane says. The man gives him a toothy smile.

Shane brings his free hand up to place against his chest, and says, "Shane."

The man mirrors him, pressing his fish against his chest.

"Ryan," he says.

Shane smiles at him. "Ryan," he repeats.


End file.
